


True Love's Kiss

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request: askier gets cursed and clearly the only way to break it is by true loves kiss. But reader thinks theres no possible way it's her and waits to see past flings come by to see if they were the one. She gets jealous of them, but also worried because nothing has been working. And, well, one night, she tries.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Kudos: 30





	True Love's Kiss

As long as he kept breathing, there was hope.

That’s what Geralt had assured you when he found you crying in a hidden alcove. You were trying to stay out of the way though every part of you wanted to stay curled up by Jaskier’s side looking for signs of improvement. Yennefer had tried everything she knew to bring him out of his catatonic state but still he laid unmoving and pale in the bed Geralt had placed him in when they arrived a week ago.

“I know what must be done,” Yennefer announced one day, though her face looked a bit grim instead of excited by this new development.

“What is it?” Geralt asked, already rising from his seat, prepared to seek out the cure.

“True love’s first kiss,” she answered.

A tense silence filled the room, finally broken by a terse, “Fuck,” as Geralt took his seat again.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“It means he can only be awoken by the kiss of his true love,” Yennefer explained.

“The one he loves the most or the one you loves him the most?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Ideally both, but at the very least it must be the one he feels the truest love for,” she explained. Your heart sank. All of this love you held for him but no way to help him when he needed it the most. It was agonizing. Almost as agonizing as the parade of women that were ushered in try and break the curse. Geralt had painstakingly gone through Jaskier’s notes and written out a list of women who’d inspired his songs. Even Yennefer had begrudgingly offered up a kiss after much prompting by a very disgruntled Geralt who felt both relieved and discouraged when her kiss had no effect.

The worst day had been when Countess de Stael came. You had never felt so conflicted. On the one hand, you were certain this had to be it, Jaskier spoke of her the most and she had inspired his decision to become a bard. But on the other, you hated the woman with a ferocity you didn’t know you possessed. Yet you would rather he wake and ride off into the sunset with the Countess than have him be close to you in this terrible state. The beautiful voice silenced by a curse, life hanging in the balance.

When the Countess left you felt all hope left with her. Even Geralt seemed to be at a loss but he’d left mumbling about rounding up all of the women in Redania If necessary and his determination was endearing but ultimately didn’t rouse much hope.

You were sitting by his bedside as you had every night after the rest of the household had gone to bed when the thought came to you. Perhaps Yennefer was wrong in her interpretation. Perhaps if someone’s love was strong enough it didn’t require him to love them back. You had no delusions that Jaskier felt anything for you beyond friendship. He’d flirted and gone through the motions of courting you but no more than he had with any other woman that crossed his path. But you had fallen for the bard with the bright, sparkling eyes and fierce determination to spread joy and song even when it fell on deaf, uncaring ears. You loved him and you focused on that love, trying to summon it as though it didn’t already suffuse every part of your being, as you knelt over him and, slightly trembling, kissed his unmoving lips.

You watched his face carefully for any sign of movement, even the slightest twitch of an eyelash would have been caught by your scrutinizing gaze, but none came.

It shocked you that you could still produced tears, certain your body would eventually hit its limit, but still they fell down your cheeks as you buried your head in your arms, your hand clutching Jaskier’s cold, still one.

“Y/N?”

Your breath caught in your throat at the sound and you didn’t dare move, afraid you would look up to find a ghost or that you had finally gone mad with grief and were hearing things that weren’t there. Cold fingers curled around yours and you finally dared to look up.

He still looked wan and a bit tired and more than a bit confused but he looked at you, eyes open and blinking sleepily as he began to sit up.

“Jaskier?” you said, still afraid to trust your eyes. He turned to look at you again and his eyes turned soft and kind.

“Y/N, what happened? One moment I was taking a drink of the most delicious, clear spring water and the next I’m here. And you’re here. And you’re crying,” he reached out and brushed the tears away, his brow furrowing in concern.

“You’ve been asleep for… gods I don’t even know how long now. A week? A month? It’s all run together,” you explained.

“Ah… so Geralt wasn’t joking when he said the spring was cursed. Ugh, he’s going to be impossible to live with. So how did you do it?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“How did you break the curse? Eye of newt? Wish from a Djinn? Sacrifice a goat?”

It amazed you how blithely he jumped from near death into joking.

“No it was… true loves kiss,” you said, glancing away from his eyes as you did.

“Oh… Oh! Oh well that makes sense then,” he said. “It had to be the person I loved most.”

“No,” you corrected him, “No it was just the person who loved you the most.”

“No, Y/N, loathe as I am to admit it I took quite an interest in spells about love when I was at university and I remember clearly that a curse that requires true love’s kiss must be the true love of the cursed,” he said.

“But that doesn’t make sense,” you said.

“Why not?”

“Well because I’m the one who kissed you,” you laughed, waiting for him to look confused and then make a joke about his poor study habits or his love of ale making it hard to remember that far back. Instead he just reached out a hand and gently cupped your face.

“Yes, Y/N, I know. And like I said, it makes perfect sense. Surely you must have known for a while,” he said, scanning your face and finding only shock.

“What do you mean?” you asked incredulously.

“Oh dear, the one time I don’t loudly profess my love and it’s left you totally unaware,” he shakes his head and sits up all the way, accepting your help as you take his arms and steady him before sitting beside him on the bed. He takes your hands in his as he shifts to face you better.

“Well let me be very clear right now. I, Julian Alfred Pankratz, love you, Y/F/N, and I have for some time now. And nothing in this world makes more sense to me than you being the one to break this curse. It could only have been you, Y/N, it’s always just been you.”

You spend the next several weeks arguing over which was your first kiss; the one you gave to spare his life, or the one he gave moments after that forever changed yours.


End file.
